


Little Reminders

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Broken Bones, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Fluff, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles writes reminders to himself on the back of his hand all the time but they keep wearing off or washing off; his soulmate has his back.[Soulmate AU where whatever you write appears on your soulmates skin too.]
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 37
Kudos: 1303





	Little Reminders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvanesDust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanesDust/gifts).



"Do you have a pen and paper with you?” Lydia asked, her voice soft but insistent—she knew all too well, if Stiles didn’t write it down, he’d forget.

“Uh…” Stiles spun around in circles. He picked up a pen off his cluttered desk, shoving aside folders of notebooks and text books, unable to find his notepad. “I’ve got a pen… Screw it, tell me.”

“Are you going to write it down?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles replied, putting the pen lid between his teeth and pulling it off. He held the pen above the back of his hand.

“You need to read chapters two and three of the chemistry text book and answer all the review questions by Monday and work on your assignment.”

Stiles spat out the pen lid.

“When’s the assignment due again?” Stiles asked.

“Next Friday,” Lydia reminded him.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles muttered, writing the due date under the reminder.

He could almost hear Lydia roll her eyes.

“Have you called your dad yet?” she asked.

“Ah, crap,” Stiles uttered, quickly scrawling ‘ _Call dad_ ’ on the back of his hand.

“What did the doctors say?”

“It’s broken,” Stiles said, looking down at the heavy plaster cast that encased his right ankle. “I have to keep the stupid cast on for eight weeks and then spend another few weeks recovering. And that means I can’t play lacrosse—just as I made front line.”

“I know you’re upset,” Lydia said, her voice soft and reassuring. “But accidents happen. Just rest and let yourself heal. And remember to keep it elevated.”

Stiles let out a frustrated groan, swinging his leg up so that it rested on the edge of his desk.

“I’ve got to go,” Lydia said. “Take care of yourself. Stay hydrated, remember to eat, and call your dad.”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles replied. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Lydia hung up.

Stiles tossed his phone down onto his desk. He slumped back in his seat with a heavy sigh, looking down at his desk; covered in piles of printed worksheets, folders, homework sheets, notebooks, and textbooks, scattered pens and neon coloured highlighters buried between sedimentary layers of paper.

“Chemistry,” he muttered to himself.

He began to sort through the mess, sorting the books and papers into piles as per their subjects and setting them aside where he wouldn’t trip over them.

He set his chemistry text book aside on his desk, pulling out a stack of sticky notes. He wrote down the list of chapters and questions he had to finish and stuck the sticky note on the wall above his desk.

He reached for the bottle of water that sat on his bedside table, dampening a tissue and scrubbing the scrawls of ink off the back of his hand.

He switched on his computer and opened up his chemistry assignment, opening up his notebook and rifling through the pages of his text book as he set to work on his assignment—his fingers tapping away at his keyboard.

He let out a frustrated groan as he shifted uncomfortably, lowering his leg from where it rested on the edge of his desk—opting to rest it on the chair nearby.

After a while, he sat back in his chair, dragging his hands down his face.

He glanced over his shoulder at his alarm clock next to his bed.

He’d been working on his assignment for three hours.

He turned back to his computer, noticing a mark on the back of his hand.

He looked down, recognising the familiar elegant curves of his soulmate’s handwriting.

_Did you call your dad?_

“Oh shit,” Stiles hissed, bolting upright in his seat. He grabbed his phone off his desk and dialled his dad.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad greeted as he answered the phone. “I was wondering when you were going to call.”

“I, uh…”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” his dad said, a hint of humour in his voice.

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his dad replied. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Stiles answered. “A little irritated about having to sit still though.”

“So it’s broken?” his dad asked—he’d just started his shift when the school called to say Stiles was hurt; Melissa had taken him to the hospital and brought him home.

“It’s broken,” Stiles confirmed. “And I’m already going out of my mind.”

His dad chuckled quietly.

“It’ll be alright,” he promised. “Don’t worry about dinner; I’ll pick up pizza or Thai on my way home.”

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly. “Hey, dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m always worried about you, Stiles; that’s just part of being a dad.”

Stiles chuckled quietly. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, kiddo. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“See ya, dad,” Stiles said, ending the call.

He set his phone down on his desk, a sigh falling from his lips.

The sound of the doorbell startled him, making him jump in his seat.

He pushed his desk chair over to the window and pried it open. He leant against the window sill and looked down at the front door.

A young man stood there, dressed in an old blue Henley and worn leather jacket. His raven black hair was a tousled mess and his wide-set eyes were pale, the colour of his irises shifted in the light; from hazel to green, to a shade of light blue – clear, bright and focused. 

There was no mistaking who it was; Derek Hale.

“I can’t make it downstairs,” Stiles called from the window, startling Derek.

Derek looked up at him, biting into his lip as he tried to hide his smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stiles asked.

“I have notes from class,” Derek said, nodding over his shoulder at the backpack that was slung over his shoulder. “I thought I’d offer for you to read them or copy them… or if you want help studying…”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

“The door’s unlocked,” he told Derek. “Upstairs, first door on your left.”

He pushed himself away from the window, shutting it before rolling back over to his desk. He grabbed a pen and scrawled a quick message on the back of his hand.

_Just did. Thanks for the reminder._

“Reminder or soul mark?” Derek asked as he stepped into the room, studying Stiles.

“Soul mark,” Stiles admitted.

“So I’m not the only one who does it?” Derek said, surprised.

“Does what?” Stiles asked.

“Write messages to my soulmate,” Derek said.

“Well, they spend most of the time reminding me of things I’ve forgotten,” Stiles admitted. “At this point, I might as well give them my number.”

“What’s stopping you?” Derek asked.

“Anxiety, mostly,” Stiles confessed. “You can sit if you want.”

Derek sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed, setting his bag down beside him and pulling out his notebooks.

“What are you working on right now?” Derek asked.

“Chemistry.”

Derek passed Stiles his chemistry notes and passed them to Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, taking the notebook from Derek.

He turned back to his desk slightly and froze. His breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat as he looked down at the pages of neat handwriting; the elegant scrawls of ink and curved letters.

“Your handwriting…” Stiles muttered his voice trailing off.

“Yeah, I know,” Derek muttered.

Stiles spun back around on his chair, facing Derek.

“Hold out your left hand,” Stiles said.

“Why?” Derek asked, suddenly defensive.

“Just do it.”

Derek swallowed hard, but did as Stiles said, holding out his left hand. On the back of his hand were two lines of writing; Derek’s elegant handwriting and the messy scrawl of a reply.

_Did you call your dad?_

_Just did. Thanks for the reminder._

“You’re kidding me,” Stiles muttered breathlessly.

“What?” Derek asked, his pale aventurine eyes studying Stiles.

Stiles held out his left hand, holding it beside Derek’s so he could see.

After a moment, Derek let out a breathless chuckle.

“I’ve got to admit, I’m relieved it’s you,” Derek said.

“Why’s that?” Stiles asked.

“Because I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you.”

Stiles froze, his heart skipping a beat and his breath catching in his throat. He blinked in surprise, his lips moving around unspoken words. He let out a breathless laugh, bowing his head as a rosy pink blush coloured his cheeks.

Stiles sat back in his seat.

“So, what do we do now?”

“That depends,” Derek replied. “What do you want to do? If you want to give this a go and see where it takes us, then I’m in; if you want to take it slow, I can do that; if you just want to be friends, I can do that too.”

“I want to give this a go,” Stiles said, cringing as he realised how excited he sounded.

A soft smile played across Derek’s lips, his adventurine eyes sparkling as he looked at Stiles.

Stiles smiled back, bowing his head bashfully.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
